


Just Us

by feverpitchfiasco



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Extreme schmoop, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverpitchfiasco/pseuds/feverpitchfiasco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean does his best to give Sam a classy evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Us

Misery and sorrow tend to follow them around. Dean knew that. Hell, he and Sam and had lived it their entire lives. While John had gotten the ball rolling years before, pure momentum had kept it going. Wake up, get in the car, kill a monster, get in the car, go to sleep. Rinse and repeat. They always felt a little lost when the rare weekend came around. What do they do with the time? Dean always wanted to stay in while Sam insisted they go out and do something. The fights over it were useless either way. If Dean won, he’d get bored and want to leave the motel. When Sam got his way, he’d get tired halfway through the day and they’d head back early. 

It’d been awhile since they had some downtime, so they decided to just sit around eating crappy food and watching crappier TV. Thanks to Dean’s rigged coin, Sam lost the toss and was chosen to go get food. As soon as he left, grumbling all the way, Dean got to work. He shoved the beds flush with the wall, piling loose furniture on top. Pulling out the portable tape deck, he popped in one of Sam’s fancy classical music cassettes. Scrunching his face in distaste at the music, he pulled a few more things from his bag. Fed suit, tie, a pair of Sam’s socks he had stolen because his all had holes. Plastic champagne glasses stolen from some gas station in Oregon. He set these on the table between the beds, and stared at them. Maybe he should have stolen some champagne or wine to go in them? Too late for that now. Bourbon would suffice. He filled the fluted cups halfway, drained one, and filled it once more. He had just barely gotten into the suit, adjusting his tie in the bathroom mirror when Sam came back.

“Deeeeaaaan? What’s going on?” He was confused as hell, staring at the haphazardly piled furniture, plastic cups next to the bottle of cheap bourbon, and then at Dean as he comes back into the main room. A faint blood stain was glimpsed before being buttoned away under the jacket. Crinkles sprang up at the corners of his eyes, and a wide grin split his face.

“Hey! Happy anniversary, Sammy!” He holds his hands out and lets them flop to his side. He still had that giant happy grin on his face, like a little kid proud of what he accomplished. Sam knit his eyebrows together and tilted his head.

“Our anniversary was 3 months ago... I made you take us to Red Lobster, remember?” Dean chuckled and shook his head. 

“That was the anniversary of us finally giving into whatever this is. Today is...” The corners of his lips twitch and fall by a fraction of an inch. 

“Dean? Are you okay?” Two steps was all it took for Sam to close the gap between them and grasp Dean’s shoulders.

“I’m fine.. It’s the anniversary of the first time I knew we were way too tangled up in each other in all the best ways. You don’t remember it, you were way too young. Just a baby. But Dad had been gone for days. It was just you and me in a hotel room. One of the first times he left us alone together. I couldn’t have been more than 5 or so. Maybe pushing 6. But you were trying so damn hard to talk. You’d babble and get so frustrated that we weren’t understanding you. You were on the floor, and I got up to get you some food and stubbed my toe hard enough to fall down. I was just laying on the floor trying not to cry and then clear as bell you said it. ‘Dean’. I just froze and stared at you and you grinned. You were so damn happy. So happy... Just kept saying it over and over. Dean Dean Dean Dean Dean. Dad came home a couple hours later and you just grinned up at him and shouted ‘Dean!’. It broke Dad’s heart that I was your first word, you know. He still kept hope that it’d be ‘Dada’ or whatever. More than once he’d get this sad look on his face and tell me he didn’t know where you stopped and I began. It’s always been us, Sammy. From the moment you said my name... How happy it made me. I knew then that I really loved you. It wasn’t romantic yet. Just, I mean, yeah, I’m your brother and I love you. We’re family. But... we’ve never really been JUST family, have we? We’ve always been so co-dependant. We just straight up can’t function without each other, you know? So yeah. Today is our anniversary. Of the beginning of my love for you.” Dean bit his lip awkwardly. Schmoop and fluff were hardly his deal, but he knew Sam loved it. And this was all about him. 

The corner of Dean’s mouth lifted in a lopsided smile as Sam wrapped him in a tight embrace. A whispered “Thank you” and then... a warm wetness.

“Dude, are you crying?” Dean broke the embrace, pulling back a bit to look into Sam’s face. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. Just openly crying. He laughed softly with a nod. 

“Yeah. I just.. Never expected you to do THIS for me. You have your ways of showing affection, but traditional is not a word to describe them.” He smiled again, taking in the room some more. Dean frowned, arms akimbo. 

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean? I’m a fantastic boyfriend, thank you very much. I show you I love you every day. I’ve been taking colder showers so that there’s still hot water for you, I always take the side of the bed closest to the door, I let you drive my car even when she’s running a little rough. How is that not the same as a candlelit dinner every night?” He shoved his lower lip out slightly. Sam tapped his fingertip against it and laughed, still wiping at his eyes.

“Put your lip away, or a little birdie will come and poop on it. All I mean is that, exactly like you said, you’re NOT all candles and music and fancy glasses. You’re practical. You give me hot showers, protect me from monsters, and let me drive a classic muscle car. So it just means a lot more when you DO do stuff like this. You gave me a chick flick moment, man. And.. I can’t believe you remembered the date. You’re so weird.” Sam cuddled in against Dean, nuzzling against his head. 

“We need a drink. This is far too long of a moment for me, Sam.” Escaping to the table, he fingered the stems on the glasses before handing one to Sam. 

“When did you have the time to put this all together anyway?” A soft smile played at Sam’s lips and his eyes shone brightly. His happy face. The one he only brings out on special occasions. 

“Some help and ideas from a friend or two, and some of my own ingenuity. Seriously though, man. I.. I just wanted you to have this. A relationship like ours? It’s not like there’s a “Dating Your Brother For Dummies” book or anything. We just have to figure this thing out as we go along, and sometimes I get paranoid and nervous about it, and I know you do too. I can see the way you look at me when I flirt with a waitress. I notice how clingy you get afterwards. Just need you to understand that you’re it for me. I mean it. I may flirt in the hopes of getting a free slice of pie or a milkshake or something, but at the end of the day it’s your... OUR bed I’m coming home to.”

With a hollow tap, Dean clinked glasses with Sam before taking a sip. 

"A toast to us. Now let's dance." Still holding his glass, he wrapped his free arm around Sam's waist and pulled him in tightly. The music was lilting and happy. Vaguely triumphant and reminiscent of lemonade on a summer's evening. He spun his brother around with a quiet laugh and allowed himself a moment of bare happiness. No guilt, no apprehension. Just Sam. Just this beautiful, brilliant star of a human being. There was no way he’d ever tell Sam any of what he saw when he looked at him. But he was always staring. He could see this glorious shining ball of wonder and amazement sitting inside of him. Sometimes it looked like he was bursting at the seams with it. Dean wanted to put it on display for the world to see. Show everyone just how much GOOD existed in the world despite all the evil. To put this brilliance up on a pedestal and drive back the shadows and mist for one more night. He’d get so frustrated. He wanted Sam to see it too, to know just what he truly was. But Dean couldn’t find the words. Not that he’d be able to say them even if he could. 

That just wasn’t something he could do. 

So instead, he did this. It wasn’t fancy, and it wasn’t pretty, but it was the biggest display of Winchester flavored class that he could muster. He looked up at warm hazel eyes, at this big lunk of a man who for some reason woke up each morning and decided to stick around. His heart swelled and tears welled in his eyes. Swung Sam around and around. This was their life together. A spinning vortex of emotions. Some good. Some bad. But he clung to it. Oh, how he clung to it.


End file.
